Imperfection
by Exceeds Expectations
Summary: They might just be a few shades too different. /Astoria, Draco and every colour of the rainbow. Warnings inside.
1. Red

**A/N:** Written for the The Colours of the Rainbow Drabble Challenge and the Drabble Collection Challenge. Each chapter will be inspired by a colour of the rainbow and a word prompt. They will each have a specific word count, too. Please review!

**General warning:** this collection may feature unhappy!Drastoria, abusive!Draco, mature themes/topics and general unhappiness all 'round.

**Chapter specific warning: **allusions to miscarriages.

* * *

**Colour:** Red

**Prompt:** Wreck

**Word Count:** 171

* * *

She wakes in the middle of the night with stabbing pains in her stomach and she _knows_.

She stumbles blindly to the bathroom, already a sobbing wreck, and she wants so badly to be wrong, but blood colours her thighs, stains her nightgown deepest red, makes bile rise in her throat and tears spring to her eyes.

"Draco," she chokes, but it is just a whisper, pathetic. "Draco!"

He is there in seconds, barging through the door and hauling her up from the floor. He holds her close, rubs his warm hands on her bare arms as they Apparate, touches his chin to the top of her head and breathes deep. Astoria clutches tight to her stomach, where the gentlest curve belies their unborn child.

Draco mutters things like _no_ and _not again_, but Astoria does not speak. She knows it is too late. Draco kisses her temple and says _maybe next time, maybe one day_, but Astoria cannot hear him.

Her hands are still stained; her palms are bright red.


	2. Orange

**A/N:** I should be asleep right now. Why aren't I asleep? *dies of exhaustion*

(What's that you said? My lack of any gardening knowledge whatsoever is showing? Honeysuckle is not a flower, you say? Shh. Let's keep that between us. If anyone asks, I'll just say it's magic.)

* * *

**Colour:** Orange

**Prompt:** Honeysuckle

**Word Count:** 230

* * *

"You're so lucky," her mother says, "to have a man like Draco." She has been arranging and rearranging flowers in a white vase all day – orange honeysuckle. Astoria's favourite.

"He's so good to you," her mother beams, breathing in that sweet scent and grinning down at the attached card with a smile so huge it's as if they're addressed to her. "Really, Astoria, what a wonderful man."

Astoria nods stiffly.

If only she knew. If only her mother knew why Draco isn't here right now, why Astoria isn't speaking – she's not sure she could keep the betrayal from her voice.

She raises her hand and touches her own cheek, ever so gently. Her face still stings. She is sure that under her glamour, under that layer of magic and hope, there is an imprint of the back of her husband's hand marking her skin like a farmer branding his cow.

"Aren't they beautiful?" her mother asks for the hundredth time, holding the flowers to her nose and inhaling. Astoria almost wishes she would keep inhaling, keep sniffing up the scent of honeysuckle that lingers in the room, because all it does these days is make her chest ache.

There is a part of her, tiny and sharp and hidden somewhere in her heart, that hates Draco for this.

Now, when she sees those orange flowers, she flinches.

No one notices.


	3. Yellow

**A/N:** Um. So this took a while. And I don't really like it, but I've had a block with this collection, so it's nice to just get something written!

Kudos to Lizy for helping me prompting me with _shame _as being...well, yellow.

Damn, this rainbow thing is hard.

* * *

**Colour: **Yellow

**Prompt: **Run

**Word Count: **129

* * *

"I love you," he says.

Sometimes even without the scent of firewhiskey on his breath.

And she knows he does, but there is something about hearing those words – honestly, genuinely, _softly_ – that gives her hope again. "I love you, too," she murmurs, tracing her hand along the length of his arm, wondering if, tonight, they will _make love_ instead of just _fucking_.

Shame burns the backs of her eyes, tingles in her throat, as Draco pushes her robes from her shoulders roughly.

"I love you," he says again, and there is something about hearing those words from him – dark, menacing, _claiming _– that makes her want to run. But she has always loved Draco so much that it hurts.

She has long since accepted that it will always, always hurt.


End file.
